seven deadly virtues (ghastly little traps)
by ipsa dixit
Summary: John Laurens first met Alexander Hamilton in a random bar in New York./for amber


_for amber, for the gift giving extravaganza. i'm really proud of this little piece and i've been sO EXCITED TO POST IT. hope you like it too!_

 _thank you for web and em for betaing!_

 _word count is 1301 by google docs_

* * *

 _i. lust_

John Laurens first met Alexander Hamilton in a random bar in New York. At first, John didn't notice him; he was sitting in the shadows, not talking, taking in what everyone else said, but then—

"If you stand for nothing, Burr, what'll you fall for?"

He wasn't taken by Alex immediately, but he _was_ interested, and when Alex started talking about what his plan was, for the colonies to become a state, well, John would've named _that_ moment as the moment when he first fell for Alex.

He knew that he wasn't supposed to like him—a boy and another boy, together? Unheard of!—but John didn't peg Alex for the type to follow the rules, whether it was abiding by the laws King George had put down, or it was not dating another guy.

Maybe, there was a chance, but John was too scared to take it, so he hid it. He hid his secret crush, allowing to only come out at night in bed, imagining a future with them together, a future than would never happen.

* * *

 _ii. gluttony_

John Laurens was never a rebel. He _always_ listened to his father, he _always_ abided by the rules laid down for him. The only time he rebelled was when he joined Washington's camp, but it was a very low form of rebellion; almost everyone wanted to separate from England.

Alexander Hamilton, on the other hand, was the perfect rebel. He always went against the rules, only obeying things that General Washington told him directly.

So, while John longed after Alex in secret, not telling anybody, never acting upon it, none of the same was true for Alex. John would never dare, but _he_ would.

Which was why John's world exploded one night when he woke up at the camp with Alex laying next to him.

" _What?_ " he hissed, seeing Alex's eyes open.

"I was cold," he replied, nonchalantly. John was pretty sure his heart was going a hundred beats a minute. Alex was perfectly calm.

He always wanted Alex in his bed _but not like this_. They were going to get in serious trouble if they were caught.

John had no idea what Alex was thinking—probably something way above his comprehension—but after looking each other in the eyes for one, two, three beats, Alex leaned towards him and kissed him.

 _Screw caution,_ John thought, feeling more reckless than he had for his entire life. _Screw getting caught, screw everything. This is_ _ **Alex**_ _._

The kiss ended all too quickly, but John could still taste Alex on his lips. He wanted more, more than he wanted anything.

* * *

 _iii. envy_

John Laurens was lying in Alexander Hamilton's bed and he was happier than he had ever been because he was with _Alex_. He wasn't asleep, and he was pretty sure Alex wasn't either. His suspicions were confirmed when Alex hissed, "John."

"Hmmm?"

" _John_."

" _Hmmm?_ "

"Did you _see_ her, John?"

John opened his eyes, surprised by the sentence, especially the _pronoun_.

"See who?" he asked, slightly scared. He was beginning to wonder if Alex didn't reciprocate John's feelings.

"The Schuyler sisters. All of them. They're one _good_ looking family." John didn't respond. He didn't know how. "I'm thinking about asking for the middle one's hand. Eliza. What do you think?"

"If you want to," John told him, thankful that the darkness was hiding the hurt expression on his face. If Eliza would make Alex happy, then John would be happy.

Still, he wanted to rip Eliza apart limb for limb because she had caught _his_ Alex's eyes _and_ she could hold them. John couldn't. Not in that time.

* * *

 _iv. wrath_

John Laurens was an awful friend, an absolute awful friend, because he didn't want to be at his best friend's wedding.

He knew that he should be happy that Alex was happy with Eliza, but he couldn't help but agree with Eliza's sister, Angelica. She was also bitter with the way things turned out, but at least she, unlike John, actually had a chance of being in Eliza's place. Not that John would like _her_ to marry Alexander any more than he wanted Eliza to.

Still, both Angelica and Eliza made John irrationally angry and he didn't want to be at Alex's wedding.

" _Veins_ , Laurens," Lafayette said to him, waking him up from his anger-daydream. Lafayette never called him 'John', his French accent mangling the 'J'. "Smile a little, _oui_?"

"Why?" John asked, shooting him a glare. He didn't really want to deal with his friend's optimism when he was in such a foul mood.

"Why? _Oh mon Dieu_. It's ze wedding of your best friend. Zis iz a time to be happy."

"I don't fu—I don't care!" John's voice was louder than normal, his anger brimming to the top.

" _H_ _é_." Lafayette placed a gentle hand on John's shoulder.

"No," he said, pushing the hand off. "I don't care. I _hate_ this!"

Giving Lafayette one last glare, John walked out, seeking fresh air.

* * *

 _v. sloth_

John Laurens was not in the mood for battle. It had been over a month since Alex got married, to a _girl_ , but John couldn't get over it. He felt distracted and depressed all the time, but his own psychological problems wouldn't excuse him for battle, so he went into Georgetown as he should.

And then he got shot.

He had never experienced being shot before, never experienced a bullet driving through his skin, never experienced blood pouring out of his body. It seemed too surreal, like he was watching someone else's blood spill, but it was _his_. There was blood, what seemed like gallons of the stuff, streaming out of his leg.

John jumped down from his horse, ducking low to ground, avoiding overhead bullets. His vision started to blur, but he saw someone lay down next to him.

"Alex?" he asked, unsure. His ears were ringing, his vision was blurry, his mind was slipping, but he'd _always_ know Alex. "Alex, I'll miss you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he hissed, grabbing John's leg, stopping the blow flow.

"I was too slow. I'm going to die," John insisted, accepting his fate.

"No. You. Won't."

He believed him.

* * *

 _vi. greed_

John Laurens knew that whatever he wanted from Alexander Hamilton was close to impossible, but it didn't stop him from longing for him. He missed the days when it wasn't wrong for the two of them to date, to an extent. He longed for them.

Now their entire relationship was little—little meetings, little hugs, little kisses. They still had _something_ , just not the _same_ thing, and John hated it. He hated that he had to _share_ Alex with someone else.

If he could have one wish, he would completely obliterate Eliza.

He knew it was selfish of him—Alex would get upset, most likely, over Eliza's death—but he didn't care. As long as he had Alex to himself, John was perfectly okay.

He _was_ selfish.

* * *

 _vii. pride_

John Laurens was probably really lucky, as far as humans went.

He patted his breast pocket, making sure his most recent letter from Alex was still there. It told him about the British surrender and _wished him luck_ with his all-black regiment. With Alex's luck tucked away in his pocket, John was on top of the world. He'd be able to do anything.

So John went into battle with his regiment, head held high. It'd be their last battle, an easy win. There would be no fight and they'd win easily; the British in Yorktown had already surrendered.

He didn't expect the British soldier holding a gun to his chest. Before he could even react, the soldier fired the gun. The bullet made its mark, right in his chest.

John fell.

There was no one to tell him that he'd live.


End file.
